What To Do
by monkeygirl77
Summary: When another argument is interrupted by Lucifer bee-lining from the room in a coughing fit Michael isn't sure what to think let alone do. One things for sure though, he's not going to allow his LuLu to go to war sounding like that. Over his dead body-bad timing!


**Just, Guys.**

 **Big brother Michael and little brother Lucifer. Not enough of these and there will never be enough of these! NEVER!**

* * *

They had been fighting again, shouting back and forth their usual arguments, when Lucifer had blatantly 'excused' himself from the room rushing up the stairs in an attempt to get to the bathroom before he could get sick right there in the living room.

He was weak, much weaker then he usually was (something the cage did when one got out for the first time), and he had been feeling rather- _ill_ -all morning. As soon as he made it to the bathroom he collapsed onto the floor, his knees landing with a thud. His face suddenly paled and his breathing quickened considerably.

So focused on getting to the toilet before he upchucked all over himself, he never noticed anybody following after him all the same.

Michael had followed soon after his brother had run from the room, intending on continuing on their fight upstairs, not willing to let it go just yet.

But the biting remarks he had waiting for his brother were swallowed when he finally made it to the bathroom door. Lucifer was getting sick, rather violently, into the toilet. Now Michael does not like his brother, he had a deep rooted dislike for him actually, but there was something about seeing ones baby brother on the cold floor so horridly sick that makes any sort of hatred twist to something-more protective-instead.

His throat was beginning burn from the intensity of his vomiting but he couldn't stop, not that he didn't want to, his body just wouldn't allow him to. It kept coming and coming with no signs of stopping.

It was not by his choice that his eyes started watering.

His throat burned real bad, so sue him.

Michael sighed, kneeling down next to his brother, "Oh LuLu, don't cry. You're okay, just let it out, there you go, easy now."

Lucifer grabs onto his brothers arm, clinging onto it as if his life depended on it, there's a small pause between sickly spasms and he takes a deep breath, whining in pain and self anguish. His older brother rubs a hand down his back, feeling guilty that he had not noticed that his little brother had been feeling so unwell and had been just as much at fault for instigating the fight between them.

Bloodshot teary eyes turned to look up at him, "Micha, don't feel good! Make it better!"

There was few to none ways to know that Lucifer did not feel well, usually he more more of a sarcastic hard headed character, however, when he felt as bad as he did now he became much more-respectful?-more _clingy_ and childlike in the way that he _wanted_ contact.

 _Comfort._

He finished up his episode of sickness and sat back huffing in breath after breath. Michael reached for a discarded towel on the counter and used it to wipe over his brothers sweaty face.

"Up you get, Little One."

Wrapping an arm under his knees, Michael effortlessly lifted his younger brother up from the bathroom floor, his sickly little brother sighed at the feeling of his big brothers warmth and laid his head against his brothers shoulder.

"Let's get you in bed, Little Star."

Lucifer nodded quietly, his eyelids no doubt already drooping, and he stayed just as quiet when his brother carried him down the hall towards the bedroom at the end. Kicking the door open, Michael made his way to the bed calmly leaning over he set the younger down gently.

When he moved to take a step away, the grip on his arm became more pronounced again.

"I just want to take your shoes off LuLu, calm down."

Though he didn't say much of it, Lucifer did not want to let go of his brothers arm. But Michael did as he said he intended to, reaching down to remove his baby brothers shoes and pull the blanket up over his socked feet and tuck it up under his chin.

"Rest now, so you can feel better."

Michael yelped, when he tried to get back to his feet, and he fell back down. Lucifer was looking up at him with wide blue eyes, looking much like the fledgling he hadn't been in so so long, and Michael rolled his eyes in the fondness for the request he knew was coming his way.

His younger brother has a grip on his wrist and curls around his hand, nuzzling his cheek against his fingers.

This earns him a chuckle and those fingers lightly scratch at his fevered cheek, "Oh LuLu, you need to rest little light, so you can get better."

Lucifer tugs on his hand again and he concedes, "Alright, alright, scoot on over then."

His little brother is already across the bed by the time he finished his sentence. Despite their disagreements and history, Michael was still his big brother and the only one he wants when he doesn't feel good. He hums happily as his big brother settles in on his side and a cool hand rubs at his too warm forehead, petting his hair back softly.

"Go to sleep glow bug, big brother will take care of you now."

Lucifer licked at his lips, "Promise?"

"Promise."

All is calm for the moment, Michael gently petting his baby brothers temple and Lucifer thoroughly enjoying the doted on feeling. Its a good time, a quiet bonding moment.

But nothing good lasts.

"Micha, my belly hurts~~."

Michael's nothing if not a doting big brother by default, he smiles down at his sickly baby brother, petting his bangs back to peer into his icy eyes, "Oh? It does? Do you want big brother to rub your tummy-as I remember-that always made you feel better."

He's extremely amused when Luci nods his head as he attempts to look as adorably pathetic as possible.

And so he knows he has his brother in complete big brother mode, when he pecks lightly at the tip of his nose and a hand reaches down to rub at his belly.

Just as it had done way back when, the belly rubs knock him out almost immediately, and he falls asleep nuzzling into his brothers chest and clutching the hand he had taken into his grasp to his own chest like a child does to a stuffed toy.

He only wakes a few times, runny noses and sore throats a worthy adversary, but waking to belly rubs and big brother cuddles really helps fight those annoying side effects.

"Love you Micha." *Sniffle sniffle*

A tissue pressed to his nose for him to blow into, "And I you."


End file.
